The procession of mourners stretched down the road about a half a mile from Webster Schroeder High School.

They came by the hundreds, some an hour or more early, to pay their respects to two fallen heroes. And they kept arriving, more and more, until thousands had paid their respects at the wake held for two firefighters killed in Monday’s shooting.

“It’s just a shame,” said Tony Masters of Webster. “You go to your post to serve your community and something like this happens.”

The mourners drove past an auto repair store with the flag at half-staff, into the parking lot of the high school. Then they walked past another, much larger, American flag, hoisted into the night sky on the ladders of two West Webster Fire Department trucks into the high school.

And then they waited.

They waited by a television on which photos of Mike Chiapperini’s life scrolled past: The little boy wearing a play fireman’s hat holding a garden hose becoming the grown man who fought real blazes, when he wasn’t working as a lieutenant in the Webster Police Department.

They watched another screen that flashed images of Tomasz Kaczowka’s young life, cut brutally short: A young man always willing to help those around him, some who knew him say that he volunteered to work that morning so that older men with children could spend Christmas Eve with their families.

The mourners waited for hours, many to pay their respects to two men they never knew. Two men gave their lives. What sacrifice was a few hours?

Others were public servants as well, black bands wrapped around their badges.

There were handshakes and hugs, words of disbelief and solace.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing you can say.”

“I just know I’m done with all of this.”

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The crowd grew thicker by the minute, with more than 1,000 people packed into the hallway of the high school.

Organizers originally planned the calling hours for family and members of the Webster police and fire departments, but decided to open it to the public because of the overwhelming response from the community. They knew the crowd would be large, even planning for shuttle transportation from the town’s other high school.

But who could plan for something like this?

“We’re moving as quickly as we can,” one official told the crowd. “Obviously it’s very emotional in there.”

Those who didn’t know the men still knew their service.

Sixteen-year-old Lauren Gamble heard the news earlier this week and thought about the time her own house caught fire and men like Chiapperini and Kaczowka came to fight it.

The devastation and loss she felt at that time paled in comparison to what she was seeing.

“You can always fix a house,” she said. “You can’t fix people.”

When the line moved, it moved slowly, past the sign honoring Webster Schroeder High School’s values.

Cooperation.

Accountability.

Respect.

Excellence.

The mourners proceeded past the honor guard and into the gymnasium, filled with an overwhelming scent of flowers more apropos to a funeral home than a high school.

Past the grieving family of a young man lost too soon.

Past Chiapperini’s mourning widow, standing strong to greet callers.

Past the son who looks just like him.

They walked past the banner bearing another high school mantra: “Warrior nation: Stronger as one.”

Past each man’s West Webster Fire Department uniform.

Past the flag-draped coffins carrying their bodies.

Some mourners saluted. Others made the sign of the cross.

Maybe because of shock, or perhaps due to disbelief, there were few tears.

“You see all of them here from the department,” said 17-year-old Cassie Swan. “It could have been any one of them.”

Then they made their way out of the school, back to their cars and the shuttle buses.